Leave for goonching?

"Goonch goonch goonch."

I'm kind of guessing at the spelling, here.  Goonch goonch goonch is something we've started saying to Mr Bunches ever since Middle went for a ride with us and exposed us to that word.

Middle had stopped by one afternoon, and we were just hanging around, talking, when Mr F decided that he wanted to go for a ride.  That's how Mr F works: He'll just be sitting around, and then suddenly an idea pops into his head, an idea like this actual list of things Mr F has decided would be a good idea:

-- Go for a ride in the car.


-- Jump on the trampoline for 10 minutes and then lie down.


-- Break all of the cheese puffs into tinier cheese puffs and then throw them on the floor.

(There's a sliding scale of approval to these ideas.)  On this particular day, Mr F decided he wanted to go for a ride even though (or perhaps because) Middle was over.  So we got ready to go for a ride even though (or perhaps because) Middle was over and then we ran into a problem in that Mr Bunches did not want to go for a ride.

Mr Bunches wanted to stay home, and he let us know that by saying "Leave for home," which is how he tells us to stay somewhere.  He doesn't know the word stay yet; we're working on it.  So when you're sitting and watching SpongeBob with him and you decide that it's getting time that you got up and went to work because you have a job, you know, and you stand up, Mr Bunches will say "Leave for bed," to get you to stay sitting on his bed with him, and when you say you have to go somewhere with Mr Bunches and he doesn't want to go, he'll say "leave for home."

On the day we took the ride, Mr Bunches really didn't want to go, and all the usual bribes (he could bring his iPad, or his blanket, or we'd stop at McDonald's and get him a soda, the only thing he eats from McDonald's, usually)(and, weirdly, he won't drink soda from anywhere but McDonald's)(in the picture on this post, he's only pretending) weren't working, and each attempt to convince him to go for a ride made him more upset, to the point where he was crying.

(Don't be too worried about that.  Mr Bunches has taught himself to cry.  On cue.  One day, I was telling him to pick up Mousetrap because it was bedtime, and he said "No," and then I insisted, and he said "I'm sad," and I said "You don't look sad," and he looked at his reflection in the window, staring at it and concentrating until he started crying, and then he turned to me with a look of triumph and said "I'm sad," and I had to agree that he looked sad, so he got to do one more Mousetrap, which he insisted on by saying "leave for Mousetrap.")

For a brief moment, then, we tried to convince Mr F that he shouldn't go for a ride, but he was adamant; he even had his Crocs on, so what could we do?  We picked up Mr Bunches and loaded him into the car, where he cried and sulked, and we got Mr F in, and Middle came along, and we took a drive around town, as we so often do because the Babies! like to go for a ride and it gives Sweetie and I a chance to talk without staring at carpeting full of ground-in cheese puffs, which is nice.

On the ride, Middle was telling us about some reality show she watches in which there was a giant catfish that the locals called The Goonch, and when she got to that point, Mr Bunches yelled:

"No!  No Goonch!"

And ever since then, we will periodically say to Mr Bunches: "Goonch goonch goonch," and he's said "No!  No Goonch!"  And then we will debate the goonch with him:

"I think, yes, Goonch." we'll say.

"No Goonch!" he will insist.


And before you think that I am a horrible person for repeatedly reminding Mr Bunches that there is a goonch, keep in mind that (a) Mr Bunches yesterday made me play a game in which he would sit on the counter and pretend to fall off, and I had to then catch him and lift him over the volcano (which was actually our kitchen floor) and lift him to the other counter, where I would place him, and then we would repeat it.

We did that 20 times.  And even then, he didn't want to quit.  "Leave for volcano!" he told me, even as my arms were ready to fall off.

So sometimes, I figure, he can handle a goonching.  Besides, if he really didn't like it, he'd show me how sad it (pretend) makes him.

And (b) he says it to us, now, too.  He'll come up to me and say "Daddy, GOONCH GOONCH GOONCH."

Pictures with non sequitur titles, 4

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Where have all the faces gone? (Middle)

Technology? What?

So I have never been one for new technology ideas, as you may know from previous posts, and I am also not one for choosing technology over face to face.  So my question is what is the big deal with Facebook and texting or tweeting and even Emailing?

Yes I have a phone and yes I have a Facebook and I do write on this blog.  But, to me, nothing beats face to face interaction with other people. 

I don't use my Facebook like most people my age do which is to say what I ate for breakfast that morning or where I currently am located and who I am with.  I think that is a little bit of invasion of privacy.  I use Facebook to keep in contact with people that I went to high school with that I was never really all that friendly with then and whom I don't think would use my phone number to the point where they should have it. 

I am going to use my sister as an example for a moment. (Oldest).  She is CONSTANTLY on her phone checking her facebook or texting or stalking other people's Facebooks.  (For those of you who are unaware of what Facebook stalking is, it's where you go to someone else's home page and look at there photos and status updates and see what they have been up to).  Which leads into my next point but I will talk about that in a moment.  But when my sister is on her phone you cannot get her attention to save your life.  You can say her name over and over and over again but she will not look up from her phone.  And I find that to be ridiculous that people are so attached to their phones and to their Facebook pages. 

My other point was that with so many people stating where they are and who they are with and what they like to do all the time doesnt leave way too much room for a stranger to come and stalk you outside of your Facebook.  As creepy as that sounds it has happened to me, and this happened before I even had Facebook.  They knew where I was becuase my friend would post all the time where we were so they knew where I was without me even knowing hundreds of other people knew.  And if I wanted someone to know where I was I would tell them face to face or at least call them and it wouldn't be just to tell them it would be because I would want them there as well 

What happened to talking to people face to face?  Instead of having to pay so much for unlimited text messaging for a cellphone why not meet your best friend out for coffee or for a drink.  And if they dont like any of those option invite them over for dinner.  To me being able to look into the other person's eyes and seeing their facial expressions is much more personal than trying to convey their tone over a text message or over a message sent on Facebook. 

I think that all of us have lost touch with not only ourselves and out friends and family but a little to the world as well.  We should appreciate the physical company of one another as well as mother nature.    

The universe is surprisingly low budget. (Thinking The Lions)

We were out for a drive the other day, Sweetie and the boys and I, and we went by this sign, which I only barely glimpsed, so I circled the block and came back around to read it and take a photo:

 

I worry sometimes that I'm not going big.

This recipe is not for the faint of heart:

This is a Sponsored post written by me on behalf of homemadedogfood.com for SocialSpark. All opinions are 100% mine.

Begin with 10 pounds raw ground beef.

Mix in 18 hardboiled eggs, shells and all.

Stir in 15 cups of white rice.

Add a few supplements, and wait for the crew to come running.

The “crew”, of course, is dogs; that’s an Easy cooked dog food recipe from Homemade Dog Food – a site put up by an animal lover that wants your dog to eat better than crunchy bits of… what is dog food made of? Styrofoam? I think it’s Styrofoam.

Store-bought dog food is expensive, and not necessarily the best thing for your dog.  Take it from me, a person who does not currently own a dog but who has owned many dogs in his lifetime, including one cockapoo named “Annabelle”  who we taught to chase rabbits out of my mom’s roses and once she chased one nearly a mile into town and the local police found her and called us and said they had her down at the station.  They fed her hamburger and she loved it so much that she ran away twice, each time going back to the police station.

So I know what I’m talking about: dogs love Homemade dog food; at that site you’ll find videos and recipes for making your own raw or cooked dog food for Man’s Best Friend – and tips that you’ll otherwise not know, like that one about putting egg shells into your dog’s food?  Allow me to quote from the site:

the egg shells supply digestible calcium to your dog. Yes, studies have proved that the calcium in egg shell is highly absorbable.

So there you go: Right from the horse’s mouth.  Yes, a horse is talking about dogs. What?

The site also has links to supplements your dog will love, and having checked out some of the recipes, I can say that they seem no more complicated than the one I began this post with.

True life celebrity sightings? (Thinking The Lions)

I took Mr Bunches to McDonald's on our day of fun a week ago, and I'm pretty sure we saw:

George R. R. Martin eating an ice cream cone.  Here's a known photograph of George to compare:

As a side note, it turns out to be really awkward to surreptitiously take a picture of a stranger in a local McDonald's.  I had to get Mr Bunches to walk in front of me and act as though I was taking his picture.  I shouldn't have felt bad, though: if famous authors don't want us taking their pictures as they eat ice cream cones, they shouldn't have written gritty reboots of Lord of the Rings in the first place.

Then, 2

Nikorette, by Conor Oberst:

The lyric, I don't want to dream if it don't come true, makes me wonder.

At first I thought That's wrong, I still want to dream even if it doesn't come true but then I thought no, only dreams that have a chance to come true should be in my head and I go back and forth on it.  Right now, I'm on dream away, even if there's no chance it'll come true.

A tinier stegosaurus volunteers with the Coast Patrol on the weekends.